


Elusive

by whiteroses77



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Smallville
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Identity Porn, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-08 03:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11637978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiteroses77/pseuds/whiteroses77
Summary: Superman is asked to speak at an event, and Clark decides to let his hair down, but what of Bruce.





	1. Chapter 1

TITLE: Elusive 1  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,850  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Superman is asked to speak at an event, and Clark decides to let his hair down, but what of Bruce. 

~S~

He was typing away trying to get his assignment in before today’s deadline. His desk mate entered their office, hauling in her large purse, a takeaway coffee cup, and stack of mail. He said, “Hey.” And then continued with his work.

Lois mumbled, “Hey.” as she tried to put everything down safely. 

Then he heard her curse, and looked up in time to see the cup slipping from her grasp. He arose, took a stride, and caught the cup. While still using his super-speed, he scooped up a few stray drips back into the cup that were hanging in the air, and then set the cup down in the centre of Lois’ desk. He returned to his chair in time for the rest of the world to catch up. Lois blinked as she saw that the cup was no longer heading for the floor. She glanced around and saw it safely on her desk. She looked up at him and then smirked, “Thanks for the save, Smallville.”

Clark continued typing, as he uttered, “No problem.” 

She hooked her purse on the coatrack in the corner, and then she took her seat on her side of their double desk. He heard her take a sip of coffee before she began perusing the stack of mail. After a few moments, she snorted, and then revealed, “There’s one here for you.”

He frowned at his computer screen and said, “So the mail boy made a mistake and put it in the wrong pile.”

Knowing his friend so well, he sensed the eye roll even before she said mockingly, “Not for you, the other you.” He glanced up at her expectantly. Lois chuckled, “You remember when you used to get as much mail as Santa Claus?”

He did remember, all the letters had come care of Lois Lane, because everyone knew that through her earlier articles that she had contact with Superman. It had been heart breaking having little kids wanting him to come and sort out school yard bullies for them or even their abusive parents sometimes. He hoped it wasn’t one of those kinds. He urged, “Lois.”

Leisurely, she took her time and had another sip of coffee.

He began to get impatient, “It’s not from a kid is it?”

Lois smiled toothily. “Definitely not.”

“Oh come on.” He huffed.

His friend chuckled and announced, “The Metro Not Just Hetero festival wants Superman to make a speech at this year’s shindig.”

His eyes widened like saucers in trepidation, he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Lois continued to smirk at him; she was enjoying this way too much. Finally, he squeaked out, “Why?”

Lois shook her head, and made her ponytail sway with the movement. She tittered, “Maybe there’s something to be said for gaydar.”

He squinted at her, “Very funny, but from what I understand the festival is wider spread than…”

“Exactly, gay, bisexual, trans, and xenosexual, you fit them all.”

He glared at the trans remark. “They’re not tights.” he insisted. And then his brow creased, as he wondered, “Xenosexual…?”

“Well duh being sexually attracted to aliens.” She said drolly. “Not that you have much choice.”

He licked his lips, and goaded, “Well that’s you too isn’t it?”

Lois pursed her lips, “Only for a while there Smallville only for a while.”

He raised his eyebrow behind his lenses and teased in a lower octave, “Really, Miss Lane.”

His friend laughed, “Oh don’t go there again Kal-El.”

He chuckled, but then his gaze found the envelope in her hand and his smile faded. “This is crazy, how am I supposed to say yes without making everyone think that Superman has the same…” he coughed, “Superman is supposed to be neutral and impartial…”

Lois stopped laughing and frowned at him, “Neutral, are you telling me that you’re afraid of what some bigots might think?”

“No…” he replied quickly, “but there are many different reasons for why people feel the way they do and I don’t want to alienate them…” he cringed, “Pardon the pun.”

She sighed, “I get that. But you told me a long time ago that you wanted to influence people for the better. You can do that by leading by example. You don’t have to admit anything one way or the other, just show support for the community.”

He smiled softly at her, “You’re getting good at these speeches, so maybe it should be you up on the podium.”

She shrugged and had another sip of her coffee. She licked her lips, “The question is do you want to go to the festival.”

Clark gazed at her. What she didn’t know was he’d been to the festival before, not speech making, just to enjoy the atmosphere and walk among the costumed partiers with a freedom he didn’t usually have. He didn’t know the outcome of his attendance; he was still a little afraid; however, he nodded, “Send a confirmation from me.”

~*~

It was a hot sunny day, as the carnival paraded through the streets of Metropolis, with an eclectic mix of music that would change quickly with only the length of a float carrying costumed people between them. There was brass bands followed by majorettes, the fit muscular male bodies squeezed into the tiny tops and flared skirts, tossed the batons in the air, catching them and twirling the phallic objects in their hands before pointing them at males amongst the crowded spectators, before doing it all over again further down the street. There was a steel drum band drumming out a calypso beat, which people couldn’t help but dance to, even the cops there to contain the crowd pulled some moves. And so much more. Clark smiled as he saw a float carrying all women dressed in Greek dress; a couple of satyrs played music on panpipes and harps and in the middle of the float on a throne there was a beautiful facsimile of his friend Wonder Woman. He wondered what Diana would think of the lesbian contingent honouring her. 

It was all good natured fun, and he was pleased that by the time the parade had snaked its way into Centennial Park no trouble had occurred.

The heat of the day had cooled a little as the spokesman and the mayor made speeches and thanked everyone for coming. Then he was introduced. Even as he approached the stage from behind, he had misgivings. But he’d promised and he was here and now everyone knew he was here.

Superman approached the podium. There was a roar of excitement, clapping and cheering, and he had to wait a moment for them to quieten. When they settled down, he began. “What a wonderful welcome, thank you everyone.” He glanced to his side towards the spokesman, “Thank you for inviting me here, to celebrate the multitude of differences that this planet has to offer.” The crowd cheered again, and there was even some wolf whistles as the men there showed their adulterated appreciation for him. 

Superman smiled and tried not to blush, as would be Clark’s natural response. He continued, “I know the history of these pride marches came from a place of suffering and of inequality. To stand up for your rights and to stand up for what is right.” He shrugged and said wryly, “That’s kind of my thing too.” There was a rumble of polite laughter. He nodded, “The world has begun to change, and slowly people no longer have to hide who they are. No longer, have to live a secret just to try to be happy.” He could never tell these people but he understood that fear of being exposed and being punished for being different, he’d lived his whole life like that. Even after he’d come out the closet and shown the world what he was, he still had to keep a secret part hidden. He told them, “There’s a long way to go still but I have faith we will get there eventually.” He saw people nodding along, and he was glad he was getting something right. “I hope that one day that events like this won’t be about making a stand but only a celebration of all sexualities and of all orientations that have a home on planet Earth. A celebration of love and acceptance. Thank you and have a good time tonight.”

He took a step back from the microphone and then there was an explosion of applause from the people gathered in the park.

He smiled and waved, and then he glanced to the spokesman, hoping he’d get the message. Thankfully, he did, and he signalled for the band behind them to start playing. Then he took the opportunity to leave the stage. He said his goodbyes to him and the mayor and then he made his departure.

~*~

Later on, as the sun began to set, Clark moved through the crowd of revellers. He smiled as the citizens of Metropolis danced in the park, and drank and had a merry time. He reached up, and adjusted his black mask. He’d never liked masks but tonight he made an exception. The mask together with his black sombrero cordobés hid his features, his black cape, shirt and boots set off the costume. As he had chosen the Zorro outfit, he had a fond thought of his friend. He knew Zorro was a favourite of Bruce’s. 

As he moseyed, he came across an area where the music was slower. There played a string quartet, and couples danced together. He stopped and stared as he saw some partiers dressed up as Superman and Batman dancing together caught his eye. He snorted softly, “Great costumes guys.” 

He saw that the Superman looked the part but wore a sculpted body suit, and the Batman was little too bulky and his jaw wasn’t strong enough to be the real deal. He watched as they leaned in, and kissed each other. The other spectators looking on woo-hooed and applauded the couple. Clark shook his head. It was strange what amused people. But his gaze lingered on the image of him and his friend and teammate in each other’s arms and kissing each other.

From behind him, someone asked, “You don’t think they make a good couple?”

He turned around to find a handsome brunet wearing a tuxedo but no mask there. Clark glanced over his attire, “And you are?”

The young man locked gazes with him and slurred an unconvincing Scottish accent, “I’m Bond, James Bond.”

Clark chuckled

‘Bond’ shrugged, “I’m not very good with costumes. Yours is great though.”

He smiled, “Thanks.” 

“So you never said, you don’t think Superman and Batman would be hot together?”

Clark glanced back to the pair of counterfeit superheroes. He licked his lips, and revealed, “I guess I never really considered it until now.”

He glanced back to see Bond studying him, before the other man asked, “You want to get a drink with me?”

He hesitated, he knew the bars and stores around the edge of the park had stayed open trying to garner some trade, and all the hotels were all ready to cater to revellers who wanted to party all night and not drink and drive. At his hesitance, Bond wondered, “I didn’t just offend you did I?”

He blurted, “What?”

“I’m in a park full of gay guys; I didn’t just find the only straight guy here did I?”

It wasn’t usually thinkable but beneath the costume and mask, he felt secure in admitting, “You’re only half right.”

Bond frowned, “You like guys, or you don’t.”

Clark chuckled, “I like some girls, and I like some guys, it depends on the guy.”

His pursuer smiled in reaction and coaxed, “Do you like me?”

He looked him over, he seemed nice and amiable and he was handsome, and he looked good in a tuxedo. A little voice at the back of his mind added, ‘He’s not the best you’ve seen.’ Then he felt a prickle of sensation, as though he was being watched. He ignored that voice and that feeling and told Bond, “Yeah I think I do.”

“Great. You wanna get that drink then?”

He motioned with his arm, “Lead the way.”

They made their way away from the dancers, towards a park exit and towards the nearest watering hole. The bar was heaving but they found a snug booth near the window so they could still feel like part of the festivities. Bond asked what he wanted. He told him, “Whatever you’re having.”

He knew the alcohol wouldn’t affect him, but he was used to doing lots of things for show. As he waited for him to queue up to be served. He glanced out the window. There he saw a guy hanging around the park exit, who was the opposite of his new friend Bond. While Bond wore the simplest of costumes, this guy was dressed and made up to the nines. He was dressed like an eighteenth century dandy or was it a fop Clark wasn’t sure. He wore a fancy red velvet frock coat with black breeches. He wore a powdered wig, and his face was powdered too below a domino mask. He was splendidly over the top but Clark admired his attention to detail.

Then Clark’s attention was stolen by Bond returning with their drinks. He accepted the vodka and cranberry juice with thanks. Bond took his seat beside him.

In his peripheral vision he saw the fop heading towards the same bar, he watched him come in to the bar. He watched him survey the people before his gaze found Clark sitting there. He stared at him a drawn out moment. Then Bond tapped his thigh and Clark looked away. They sipped their drinks, and chatted about the festival. The anonymity of the night and the costumes meant sharing nothing of their real lives. He doubted Bond would be impressed by his usual costume anyway.

~*~

It was a pleasant enough time they had, as Bond returned to the bar a couple of times and got steadily tipsy. Clark admired his fine-looking companion as his hair got mussed out of its slick do. Then Bond uttered, “You have really a nice mouth.” Then he leaned in and kissed him.

Clark sighed softly and returned the kiss. It wasn’t his aim to come here to pick up some guy, but he wasn’t adverse to it now it was happening. He reached up, and cupped his head and deepened the kiss. His companion hummed, “You’re really good.”

Then his palm slid up between Clark’s legs, and palmed his crotch. Clark groaned into his mouth. He knew Bond’s inhibitions had been worn down by the vodka, but soberly Clark could sense the patrons of the bar all around them. His sense of smell picked up on the smell of talcum powder and cologne. He opened his eyes, and he saw that the dandy was now sitting at the table nearest their booth. Bond’s tongue mapped Clark’s mouth, but Clark’s eyes were on the other masked man. 

The dandy’s eyes gauged him intensely. It unnerved him a little but at the same time, it was kind of arousing. He felt electricity in the air between them. He parried Bond’s tongue with his own as he watched the other man watching him. Then his companion groaned, and his fingers found Clark’s zipper. He didn’t mind a public kiss during a party but he was against public indecency. His hand caught Bond’s and stopped him. He uttered, “Not here, not in public.”

Bond frowned and asked, “Why not?”

Their fancy observer spoke up then. With a cut glass, English accent, he said, “Don’t you know, Don Diego del la Vega is a gentleman underneath the mask.”

Clark found himself smiling at the dandy. The fact he understood his viewpoint ingratiated him with Clark.

His tipsy companion smiled with a leer, “But Bond isn’t a gentleman, he takes what he wants.” and his fingers fiddled with Clark’s fly again.

Before Clark could stop him again, the dandy removed a replica dagger from his scabbard that Clark noticed had a tiny flower engraved on it, and declared, “You sir are a rogue, and it’s my duty to defend this gentleman’s honour.”

Clark laughed out loud in delight as he placed the literary character. Then he murmured, “You are too kind Sir Percy.”

The dandy tilted his head, “You know of me, sir?”

“You’re the Scarlet Pimpernel.” he put forward.

He watched his rouged lips quirk at the corners in a very familiar way before they widened into a rare grin. Clark’s eyes widened behind his mask in recognition. Then Sir Percy stood up, and headed for the door. Clark watched him go. Then as he reached the door, he turned around, bowed, and asked politely, “May I have your company on the way back to my lodgings Don Diego?”

Clark glanced between the two men, one sweet and fun, and a little drunk, and the other one was over the top, and intense and much more. His chest heaved with excitement, and he stood up. He said to Bond, “I’m sorry, but I’ve really got to…”

The dandy opened the door, and waited and Zorro rushed to catch up with him. Then with matching grins, the two heroes with secret identities headed out into the night together.

 

To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

TITLE: Elusive 2  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,712  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Clark shares a tryst with a stranger, or does he?

~S~

The two masculine figures, allusions to bygone literary heroes walked together through the party filled Centennial Park, seemingly heading towards one of the two’s hotel room. The one dressed as Sir Percy Blakeney continued to speak as though he was British aristocracy as he commented on the festive atmosphere. “Tis a jolly good knees up, what?”

At his side, the black clad figure dressed as Zorro, almost doubted his own revelation from minutes before. He doubted what they were doing, and what the other man was planning. Because he was ninety-nine per cent certain the other man was his close friend under the mask. The idea that the Scarlet Pimpernel was Bruce, wasn’t far-fetched, it matched him perfectly. However, what did seem far-fetched was that he was actually leading him towards a hotel room. The idea of that filled Clark with equal parts confusion and arousal. 

As they moved through Centennial Park, a volunteer wearing a badge promoting safe sex offered them free condoms. He watched as Percy waved the man off. “Don’t worry all is well. This good fellow and I are as safe as can be.”

The volunteer nodded along, “I’m glad to hear it buddy.” 

They continued along. He thought about his crime fighter teammate’s motto about being prepared for anything, so he shouldn’t be surprised. He wondered if Bruce knew it was him under the Zorro façade. Or was Bruce just drawn to a man dressed as one of his inspirations. If he knew that it was him, it threw up a lot of questions, of what Bruce wanted or didn’t want. 

They passed by the partiers costumed as Batman and Superman, they were taking a break from dancing now but they were sitting on the grass still together and kissing slowly. Clark watched for any reaction from the man by his side, but he didn’t see any discernible reaction as his own had been when Clark had seen them together earlier. Even when he’d seen the couple this time, Clark himself had fallen behind, as he wondered if they were a real couple or were they two single men who had seen each other at the festival dressed as the two superheroes and thought it would be kinky to hook up. 

Suddenly his companion’s hand caught his hand and tugged him along impatiently.

Clark forgot about his wonderings, and he laughed and quickened his step. Sir Percy glanced at him and grinned roguishly.

Excitement coursed through his body as he was led into a hotel. It was an average hotel, not the upmarket places that Bruce Wayne would usually stay. It made Clark doubt his previous assessment. Maybe he was wrong. In the corridor, outside his hotel room, he watched Sir Percy unlock the door. As it opened, Clark swallowed hard. Maybe he was a stranger after all. He’d left one stranger for another on the belief that he was secretly his friend. He considered his own reaction, the need to go with him and excitement he’d felt believing the other man was Bruce. 

Sir Percy motioned with his arm, “This way kind sir.”

Clark inhaled, and he considered using his x-ray vision to see behind his mask. What if it was Bruce but he didn’t know it was Clark. He felt honour bound to tell him. But then Percy’s eyes narrowed behind his mask, “Don Diego never backs down from a challenge, does he not?” 

Then he was coming forward, and he grasped Clark’s black masked face and then he kissed him with his rouged lips. Clark tasted cherry lip gloss and he groaned, then the other man echoed him and he opened his mouth and kissed him deeply. It was his first kiss with this man, and if it was Bruce then it was the first time that he’d kissed his friend too. The kiss was consuming and arousing, and Clark realised that it didn’t matter his identity. He just wanted what that kiss promised.

~*~

He was led into the hotel room. When they reached the sitting area, Sir Percy turned and met his gaze through his domino mask. He purred, “You look very fetching, Diego.”

The powdered wig and face wasn’t something that Clark found appealing but he replied with courtesy, “And you look grand Percy.”

Percy stepped up and came around the back of him, and said, “May I take your cape?”

Clark licked his lips, as a vision of Batman, his black gloved hands, taking his red cape from his shoulders entered his mind. Damn, he needed to forget about that and focus on this night. Percy and Diego not Bruce and Clark. So in that same vein, he uttered over his shoulder, “Si Señor.”

He heard an earthy chuckle, before his hands came up and removed his cape. It was unceremoniously dropped on the floor and then strong hands were measuring the muscles of his back, and then slid down to his ass. He felt teasing fingers trace the seam. “You have a fine derriere.”

He laughed softly and teased, “Too much time spent in France?”

Percy didn’t laugh; his fingers traced his ass again, before he came around and faced him again. Then his fingers found the opening of Clark's pants, and Clark just observed with fascination as he opened them. Then he watched this man fall slowly to his knees. He hummed lowly, as he was faced with Clark’s hardening cock, then his rouged mouth took him in eagerly. Clark groaned at the feeling of the rare sexual contact. 

“God yes.” Clark prayed as his cock hardened fully in that hungry mouth. 

Those scarily familiar eyes looked up and met his gaze, humming he pulled off and then he asked, “Bueno?”

Clark laughed roughly; even his Spanish was tinged with that English accent. He knew Bruce was the consummate performer, every detail perfect. Then Clark murmured, “No, excelente.”

There was a rumble of appreciation from his throat that was almost familiar before Percy continued what he’d started. He used both hands to stroke him while he sucked the head of his cock. His mouth felt incredible on him, he wondered how Bruce had become that good. Or maybe it wasn’t him, he doubted again. 

He tried to stop comparing. 

The thing was he didn’t really have anything to compare him to. He didn’t know what it was like to be with Bruce. Bruce was smart, and brave and handsome. He knew his friend, he knew Bruce wasn’t enamoured at playing at playing the playboy. He could understand that, it might be some men’s dream but Clark couldn’t imagine enjoying that kind of lifestyle real or façade, he guessed he had more homely sensibilities. One night could be satisfying physically but having and sharing more than sex with just one person was Clark’s ideal. But the truth was Bruce still had the opportunities to sow his wild oats, he was a sexy man… hmm, his mind was distracted… the man on his knees, the man that was making his cock throb in that hungry mouth, was sexy too. 

His hand came up of its own accord, and he cupped his head and he moaned, “Yes, god you really like that don’t you?”

Those mask framed eyes looked up into his again. His cock flexed as he realised that even if this man wasn’t his friend, it was the notion that it was, that turned him on. He caressed the powdered wig, and he suggested, “You want to get out of these costumes?”

Those now smudged red lips pulled off, and then in that posh accent, he denied, “Where would the fun be in that?”

For the fantasy to be fulfilled, and not smashed against the hard rocks of reality, he knew the masks had to stay on but… to show willing, he reached up, and he took his hat off and dropped it on top of his cape on the floor. “How about just the wig then, must be hot under there.”

He watched keen eyes looking thoughtful, and then Percy stood up and removed the wig. There were butterflies in Clark’s stomach as dark hair was revealed. Then Percy shrugged out of his frock coat. Clark could detect the muscled arms even beneath the loose flowing sleeves of his white shirt. It added to Clark’s fantasy, so when his companion came forward, Clark backed off a step, glanced around the room, and then went to stand in front of the couch.

His companion followed him intently, then Percy tore Clark’s shirt open, and insatiably he kissed and sucked at Clark’s bare chest, and worked his way down, until he met and held his gaze as he dropped slowly to his knees again. Clark ran his hand through his dark hair, and then guided him back to his erection. At his initiative, the man on his knees groaned softly under his breath and then took Clark’s cock back into his mouth. He sucked him with relish, he could tell that he was enjoying doing it as much as Clark was enjoying receiving it, but it was confirmed when he began to blindly reach down to the buttons on his breeches. 

Feeling the pleasure and wanting to give some back, Clark grasped his shoulders and dragged him up to his feet, and he took his mouth with his. The other man responded in a frenzy, and his tongue battled his, his hands grasping Clark’s head to hold him to him. He moaned, “Yes.” into his mouth.

Clark dragged his lips away, almost panting. He locked gazing with him again, and slowly sank down to his own knees. He saw his chest heave. Then Clark reached for and unfastened those buttons that held that straining front panel up. Clark pulled it down, and then he wrapped his fist around the hardened flesh of his cock. It flexed in his hand, and he heard the rasp of harsh breathing. He glanced up; and then Percy was reaching out, and his thumb brushed across Clark’s lips. He let his mouth fall open ready, and the man standing over him, breathed, “Shit.”

He smiled in response. 

Percy breathed, “Don’t.”

He leaned in and breathed against the head, “Don’t do this?” and then he licked around the glans.

His nostrils flared, he grasped Clark’s head again, and he pushed his cock into Clark’s mouth, over his tongue. Clark wasn’t expecting the suddenness of the thrust, but he moaned and he closed his lips around it and sucked it as he withdrew. Those eyes met his again; there was something in them, something that looked like shock. Clark’s mind returned to his friend again. He wondered again if Bruce knew who he was. He hadn’t disguised his voice; surely, his best friend would recognise his voice. He almost succumbed to questioning his actions again. But that cock thrust again, between his lips, again and again, and Clark grasped his hips, and stopped thinking and let go as his mouth was fucked. 

His own cock was rock hard, and the ache in it took over his actions. On the next withdrawal, he halted him, and he quickly turned him around and pulled him down, so that his knees met the carpeted floor and his chest met the couch seats. There was a gasp of surprise, before he glanced back over his shoulder and met Clark’s gaze. Clark gave him a playful leer, and then reached out and caressed his bared ass. Percy uttered, “Damn.”

Clark bowed his head and he kissed each tight muscular globe, scraped them with his teeth, and then ran his tongue over the beginning of the valley between his ass cheeks. “Yes.” his companion whined.

Clark smiled lecherously to his self. He massaged those lovely cheeks; he spread them apart and looked. His cock flexed seeing the divineness of its target. He bowed his head again and licked slowly at that enticing entrance. Percy panted, “God yes.” then his arms flung back, pressing his own chest into the couch cushion as his hands grasped his own ass cheeks and held them open. At the blatant eagerness, Clark felt sexual pride, and he chuckled huskily, “You want my tongue?”

“To begin with.” was the reply. The accent though still English was decidedly rougher sounding. 

Clark massaged the cheeks again. He ran his hands over his lower back under his flowing white shirt, enjoying the feel of his fit body. He massaged until his thumb met a raised line. Clark frowned. What was that? He lifted the loose material and he saw the white line of an old scar. 

Clark’s mind was jarred as it flashed back to a dark night in Gotham as terror filled he’d flown through the wind and the rain from Metropolis after he’d heard his friend’s deathly gasp of pain, and a racked cry of ‘Clark’. He’d gotten to him as quickly as possible, and found him in an alley with a specialised dagger sticking out of his armour covered back. He’d got his friend medical attention, and he’d eventually healed well enough to go back out on the streets. He’d never seen the remnants of that wound until now.

As his hands, and his attention had stopped, the man holding his ass open for him, wiggled restlessly. Then one hand released his cheek and it reached back and tried to seek him out. Then he glanced over his shoulder, those intense eyes met his, before he urged, “Come on, please.”

Clark’s mind was still whirling, but his body was running on primal instinct. If he wanted it, Clark would give him what he wanted. With hands shaky with nerves and passion, Clark spread those ass cheeks again and then he bowed his head and he licked into him. He licked into his friend’s ass. He licked into Bruce’s eager waiting ass. Clark whined in response to that gloriously naughty thought, and the feel of him against his tongue. Then instinct really did take over, because he lost himself to the taste and the feel of Bruce’s asshole yielding for him.

Bruce’s body rode against his tongue, needy and wanting. His grunts and sighs of pleasure spurred Clark on. He stroked his erection as he did, until that hole felt as though it could take him. He spat against him and then he lined up, and Bruce’s body braced itself for him. Bruce whined, “God.” As he felt the tip of his cock touch him intimately.

And Clark echoed him as he sank inside his friend’s ass. It quivered around him, but it let him in. Bruce's panting painted lips were pressed to the material of the couch cushion, as he took it from him. The slowness of his entry gave Clark time to wonder again if Bruce knew it was him, or was Bruce offering his ass up to any guy in a Zorro outfit. How meticulously he knew Bruce was, told Clark that he must know, Bruce never walked into any situation blind. 

However, he thought of his own presence at the festival, it wasn’t like him, so if it wasn’t like him, maybe Bruce had taken the same opportunity as him to have some freedom, after all that’s what the festival was all about. 

He didn’t know the answer, but it was too late. He had his cock inside the tightness of his friend’s ass, and whether Bruce knew it was him or not; Bruce wanted his cock in his ass. Clark breathed in and out, it sounded loud in the tension filled hotel room. He grasped Bruce’s shoulders and then he began thrusting. He was thrusting his aroused length into his friend and it was so damn good. Shit. It might be the best he’d ever had. He didn’t know if he’d have felt that way if he hadn’t figured out Bruce’s identity, or was it that knowledge making it that incredible. It didn’t matter because it was Bruce; it was Bruce’s body rocking back for his cock, welcoming him deep inside. 

 

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

TITLE: Elusive 3  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,771  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Their tryst continues, but Clark is still confused.

~S~

Instinct had taken over, any worries or second thoughts about what he was doing were fleeting thoughts. Those thoughts were the shocked whispers in his mind. ‘You’re having sex with your best friend. You’re fucking Bruce.’

Bruce’s masked façade of an English fob hadn’t slipped, though now in the throes of this thing that they were doing, he had stopped speaking, and he only gasped and panted against the couch cushion, that Clark had took him over.

Passion filled, Bruce squirmed as Clark withdrew, gasping, “No don’t stop.” When he felt him withdraw, instinct made Bruce press backwards as he tried blindly to find that cock again.

Then Clark grasped his hips, urging him, “Lift up a little.”

Eagerly, Bruce tilted his hips up, raising his ass on demand. 

Clark let out guttural hum before his tongue swiped across Bruce’s centre again. Bruce cried softly, “Yes.”

He studied that used little hole, used by him and then Clark mouthed against him. He pressed his tongue deeper and growled softly. Bruce began to echo him but suddenly, he pressed his forearm against his mouth to stop any sounds coming out.

Clark’s mouth left him, and he smiled wolfishly knowing Bruce no longer trusted himself to keep his façade going. Then his cock was back at his centre, and then it was back inside him. Clark’s body quivered at the entry. Bruce bowed his head to the couch cushion as Clark stroked into him. It wasn’t hard but it was intent. He heard Bruce gasp and moan against his forearm. He was surprised by his own need, but it also made his cock throb.

Bruce groaned and yielded for a few minutes of raw need, quietly gasping for air, as Clark praised him, “I didn’t expect this, god you feel so good, so damned good.”

Suddenly his costumed companion struggled to lift up with his breeches around his knees. Clark sighed at the break of rhythm, and he helped him. Then Bruce stood up and in a rush, he got rid of his breeches. Clark gazed up at him, stood over him, with only his mask, his white shirt and his silver buckled shoes on. Then Bruce gave him a shove, and Clark let himself be push down so his back was flat on the carpeted floor. Then Bruce took over and lowered himself, straddling his hips, and sinking back down onto Clark’s erect cock. 

They could look into each other’s eyes now, and they did, their gazes locked as Bruce began riding him, with his hands flat against Clark’s chest. Clark wanted to say something, he wanted to call him by his name and tell him how good he was making him feel. But what if Bruce didn’t know it was Clark? Before he could decide on anything. Bruce leaned down, so they were inches apart, and he murmured, “Diego, don’t say anything, just let go and feel.”

Clark’s eyes widened, it was as if Bruce had read his mind, but truthfully, he’d always had that ability when it came to him.

Then his friend was taking his mouth, and kissing him with the same hunger that he’d shown him all night. Clark still wasn’t sure what was really going on, but he did what Bruce wanted, he gave into his body’s needs. He held on to him, and he thrust up into him, mesmerised as he rode down onto him. Harder and harder, they moved and bucked together until sweat smudged Bruce’s powdered face. As Bruce stroked his turgid cock with a fierce rhythm. Until Bruce came hard with a bitten off yell, and sprayed Clark’s naked chest with come. Until Clark came shaking and thrusting his cock up inside his lover, filling him up with warmth. He realised belatedly that anyone else he’d have thought about condoms, they'd even been giving out free condoms at the festival, but he’d been too mesmerised by his friend’s seduction.

As their panting settled, Bruce’s mouth found his and dazedly Clark returned it slowly. Feeling their connection wet and tight, feeling his friend’s tongue languidly licking into his mouth, made Clark’s body tremor, and he shot more of his come inside. The man sharing this connection with him let out a rumble from deep in his throat, and grinded down onto him, and caught Clark’s upper lip between his and hummed a satisfied sound. Clark echoed him reflexively. 

Slowly Bruce pulled away, sitting up and staring down at him. His finger found his own come on Clark’s chest, and ran his finger through it. As Bruce stared, a shuddery breath left him, and then a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, that suddenly flashed out at him in a joy filled grin. 

Nervously, Clark licked his lips and asked, “What have we done Percy?”

Bruce gazed at him softly, but then the English accent that replied belied their true connection, “Whatever it was, 'twas a damned good show, old chap.”

Clark closed his eyes, whatever this was, it was obvious that Bruce’s intent was to continue the façade, and end the night the same way it had begun. Then he felt a tender kiss on his cheek. He opened his eyes and gazed up into his friend’s eyes. He opened his mouth to confess how he was feeling, however his companion murmured, “I’m going to get cleaned up. You can get back to the party alone can’t you?”

Then he rose up and their physical connection was severed as Clark’s softening cock slipped out of his friend. Bruce walked away. Before he entered the bathroom, he glanced back at him and smiled.

After he was gone, Clark lay on the floor; he didn’t know what to do. A part of him wanted to go into the bathroom and confront Bruce about tonight, another part wanted to just get his stuff together and get the hell out of there. Yet he couldn’t have sex with his friend, his best friend and then pretend it didn’t matter. He just couldn’t do that. So he didn’t leave, he waited instead for Bruce to return from the bathroom.

He waited. 

Then he started to get worried, and so he used his hearing ability to listen for sounds in the bathroom, and when there was none, he used his X-ray vision. What he saw made him grind his teeth with annoyance; there was no one in the bathroom. The scoundrel had scarpered.

Clark glanced down at his come splattered chest and he shook his head and rebuked softly, “Son of a bitch.”

He got up, collected his stuff, and headed home.

~*~

It had taken a few days but Clark had come to the realisation that he couldn’t pretend and let what happened between them go. He knew he wouldn’t be able to act normally next time they met if he didn’t confront it now. He floated above Gotham, and he let his super-hearing expand, searching, and then focus down onto the right place. He found the Batmobile parked up in an alley. He heard the sound of the high tensile line shooting out and then retracting. Then his eyes found the dark caped figure landing on a nearby rooftop. Superman alighted down in front of his friend.

Batman’s frame tensed and his eyes narrowed for a second, and then they softened. He uttered, “Quiet night?”

Superman swallowed hard, at the casual friendliness, and the confusion that buzzed softly in his brain got louder. He said roughly, “Hi, yeah I guess so.”

His teammate nodded, “Me too, between cases, and just scouting out some locations.”

Was he really doing this? Or maybe it was simply that Bruce really hadn’t known it was Clark under the Zorro mask. He was surprised, as he felt something like jealousy mixed with nausea, that his friend had gone to Metropolis and let an anonymous guy fuck him, that it might not have been him in particular that Bruce had sought out. Now he had the uncomfortable decision to make, either really let it go, and pretend it hadn’t happened and continue being friends with Bruce or to reveal that it was he under the Zorro mask. 

But it wasn’t just that, he’d have to admit that he’d known it was Bruce and he’d not said anything, not said anything, and then fucked him anyway. If Bruce didn’t know then it was a damning confession to make and it would ruin their friendship and the trust between them. Because they did have trust, and he’d always cared about him.

God he didn’t want to lose his friend.

He suddenly realised that Batman was watching him closely. He also saw the eyes surrounded by the black mask, eyes that had looked up at him from his knees. He knew he couldn’t look into those eyes for the rest of his life and pretend, pretend he didn’t want them looking up at him like that again. He licked his lips with nerves and then he cleared his throat. He smiled and shrugged trying to go for repose, “So what did you do last weekend?”

He saw slight tension return to his frame, which manifested only at Batman’s jaw; before he replied, “Not much, my usual dates had plans.”

Clark fidgeted slightly, “Really um, I guess you heard that I made a speech… um at Metropolis’ pride festival.”

He saw Bruce’s lip curl slightly, “Yeah I heard, I saw it actually… um on the news.”

He shrugged, “Yeah, it was a bit awkward you know, but they asked and I couldn’t say no.”

“It was good, it was from the heart.” Bruce commended.

He smiled shyly and glanced at his friend. He inhaled and exhaled, “Actually, I kind of went to the party in the park afterwards, you know as me, you know Clark.”

Bruce’s nostrils flared as he breathed in, and out, “Is that right?”

Clark nodded, “Yes, you know there was actually a couple of guys there dressed as us, you know Batman and Superman.” Unconsciously, he looked at him through his eyelashes, “You know they were together… together, and everyone there thought that it was kind of cool.”

“What did you think?” he was asked lowly.

“I thought…” he hesitated, “I thought about you.”

Bruce blinked slowly. 

Clark cleared his throat again; this was the first part of his confession. “I met someone there, we spent some time together.”

He saw his friend’s lip pinch into a grimace before he said, “Why are you telling me this?” Clark cringed and he glanced around the rooftop. Bruce said lowly, “Well?”

He turned back to him, and he blurted out, “I slept with him.”

“Him?”

He ran his fingers through his hair in agitation, “Yes. Him. This guy took me to his room. He wanted to have sex with me. I wanted to fuck him, so I did.”

He heard a shuddery breath come out of his friend’s mouth, then he said with detachment, “It sounds like you had a good time so what’s the problem?”

“The problem, the problem…?” he asked distraughtly. 

“I know that you’re a nice guy Clark, but if you both wanted it why are you getting so het up about it?”

Clark stared into his friend’s eyes, he couldn’t play this game anymore, and he accused in a whisper, “Don’t Bruce. It’s okay. I just wanted you to know that I know.”

“You know what?” he asked obtusely.

He reached out and he grasped his friend’s black armoured shoulders, and he said emotionally, “I know, Bruce.” Bruce stared him out. Then Clark confessed, “I knew all along, from the moment before I left the bar with you.”

His friend snorted softly. “Let me get this straight, you met someone in a bar, you left with him, went to his room, and fucked him.” His lip twitched with condescension, “This guy wanted you to fuck him, and all that time, right until this moment, you thought it was me, your best friend?”

It sounded crazy spoken out loud. However, he stated, “I was dressed as Zorro.”

Bruce smirked at him and shook his head, “Now why would you go to a gay pride festival dressed as one of my heroes.” Clark’s brow creased at the question, but Bruce continued, “Maybe you wore it hoping to lure me in.”

He shook his head, “I did think of you when I chose it but I didn’t think you’d be there. I never dreamt that you would…”

His friend sighed loudly, “You still think that it was me?”

He insisted, “Yes you were dressed as the Scarlet Pimpernel, you had an English accent and…”

“God.” Bruce chuckled, “It gets worse, now you’re saying, I went to Metropolis dressed as the Scarlet Pimpernel, affected an English accent, found you and then…”

Clark was nodding along, “Yes I know that you’re a master of disguise.” He stepped forward, “You took me to a hotel room and you kissed me, and then you gave me a blowjob, and then…” he stepped even closer, “Then I sucked your cock, and then…”

Bruce’s eyes were locked on Clark’s lips before he tore himself away. Then he paced a few steps away, "All this effort on my part and you saw through it, straightway.” Clark nodded, and Bruce paced back to him, shrugged, and probed, “And in this scenario, you stuck your cock up my ass. Now what does that say about you?”

He swallowed hard, and admitted, “It says that you’re my friend and I care about you. It means that the idea of leaving and going to that hotel room with you was exciting. It means when we touched each other I was turned on. It means I wanted to fuck you. It means it was the best sex I’ve ever had.” He saw Batman's armoured chest heave but he didn’t reply. Clark continued, “Listen, that festival was all about being able to be open about who you are and be accepted. I can’t be open with everyone; I still have to hide from the world. But with you Bruce, I thought we didn’t have to hide from each other, I thought we were open and honest with each other, and that we were ourselves with each other, that we accepted each other.”

Bruce’s jaw bunched up, and he rumbled, “And what does it mean that you’re here now telling me all this?”

He felt a little desperate, needy and a little stupid at the same time. “I don’t know, but I couldn’t pretend anymore.”

“Pretend…”

Clark sighed, “But that’s what you’re doing, pretending.”

Bruce snorted again, “Bruce Wayne could have anyone that he wanted.”

Clark bowed his head, “I know that, but you wanted me and that’s why this is all so confusing.”

“You’re confused?” he uttered.

He glanced up, and said, “Yes I’m confused.”

Bruce leaned in closer and whispered roughly, “Clark, all you’ve got to understand is that if I’d ever wanted you, I’d have had you. If I wanted you, I’d have gone to Metropolis and got you. You understand that?”

With disappointment Clark nodded, and turned away. Then he heard Batman’s line shoot out and the other hero swing away into the dark Gotham night. Clark shook his head at himself. It didn’t make sense, he’d been sure it was Bruce, especially after seeing that tell-tale scar on his lower back. But he was right, he knew his friend, knew his determination, if Bruce had ever wanted him, why would he come to Metropolis and get…

Clark came to an abrupt halt. He replayed what Bruce had whispered to him. My god. Yes, he understood. He turned around quickly, and he saw the dark figure standing on the rooftop across the street. Batman was observing him. Clark’s eyes widened, as Bruce’s lips curled up into a smile. Clark’s heartbeat tripled, and then he launched himself across the street. He gathered Batman into his arms with a swirl of their capes. He took his mouth in an intense but excited kiss that mellowed slowly. Then their lips parted, and Bruce murmured, “Why didn’t you tell me at the hotel that you knew, and that you wanted me. I wouldn’t have had to sneak out and we could’ve stayed the night together.”

Clark laughed, and he grinned with happiness and he whispered, “If you wanted me, why didn’t you come out and ask me?”

 

The end


End file.
